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Entry tags:
.:Oh shit it's November:.
Who ⬤ Ganymede and Co.
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
What ⬤ You know what.
When ⬤ Nebulous times.
Where ⬤ Fine Wine, ΩQuiet Winter’s Wanderlust, Gany's McMansion, Net Slum, Protected Forbidden Pilgrim
Content Warnings ⬤ mentions of kidnapping, captivity, transphobia, dissociation, existential depression, and probably incoming other cws, lmao
no subject
It could be just that. Pain from her dying, though he is more emotionally intelligent to figure that maybe there's something else to it too. Not psychic to know for sure, but amongst his own quiet, having had time to stew in his own thoughts on the loss — even if he was never close to her, it still feels awful. The answer in response cues him that maybe...it's not just that? Or maybe it is. ]
But, you're hurting. What else happened?
[ This way he can ask to see if there was anything else unfortunate about the battle. ]
no subject
There is nothing to be hurting over. Michel is here, still, always. The consequences of these battles and his own actions never fall on his shoulders. He lifts them in a shrug; only one moves, he notes distantly. The infirmary will resolve that as well. There is very likely no way to break himself down to his constituent parts enough that they can't be reassembled into a weapon in short order. Even so, he lets Ganymede ease him into the infirmary bed. Resisting here would have no more meaning than it does on the battlefield. ]
We fought... Hien was dead. We killed Skeith. They are gone. Everyone who remaims moves forward.
[ To the next battle, and the next. Is there a point to that? Is this more data for Cubia than simply overriding all of their programming and having them execute each other? Cruelty data shaped Cubia's planning, perhaps. ]
no subject
Including, well, getting one's ass kicked, but it's good Michel doesn't resist getting on the bed. He joins him, and even carefully reaches out to slide arms around him, however he can with the little room on the infirmary bed itself. ]
Okay, and when you were fighting Skeith, what happened? Were there any unusual effects? Something that took you by surprise?
[ He's thinking of Uta's battle, in particular, but also — Michel's own, with the doors that opened. Skeith could have had something like that too. Unpleasant reminders. He will go down the list of possible...things to question? He isn't the best at this, but Michel's reaction is far too unusual for him to ignore. ]
no subject
Given that I have no idea if heal cores applied to characters who were in the void:Ganymede can likely tell that Michel still smells slightly singed, and pressure on the wrong place on his side gives a little too much. But Michel doesn't show any signs of pain, and it shouldn't be hard at all for Ganymede to find a safe place around his middle to wrap his arms around. ]...No, not unexpected. Healing one of us healed him. Then it was dark. [ What else, what else... ] Our minds were altered again. I hurt someone again.
[ The same as always. Not a surprise. No, the only surprise is if Michel hasn't killed anyone yet. ]
no subject
...Skeith was the one who altered your mind?
[ He presses. Does he start to celebrate the Wave's death? ...Probably not, either way. He never liked Hien, but he never wanted him to die. Spitefully, he wanted Hien to live so he could deal with people yelling at him. And not to mention, Michel is like this.
He wishes...he could protect Michel from this somehow. But Ganymede is also used to not being able to protect those he loves. It doesn't mean he doesn't hate it, however. ]
no subject
Michel blinks at the sausage. His expression. mostly empty, might show a momentary flicker of something that could be the first shadow of an emotion. But he opens his mouth cooperatively to be fed. ]
I don't know. I was blinded. [ Thinking about it logically, however... ] There was the fear of death everywhere. It would follow.
[ Otherwise, a latent ability or armor effect. Like Mithrun's charm during Gorre's battle. Like the effects of the armor sets. He had done that to Ganymede, months ago, hadn't he? He remembers. ]
Were there... any other bodies, when you led me away?
[ Would he have seen them, staring blankly as he was? What if they were left behind in the arena? No way of knowing. ]
no subject
But, he hopes the bit of ... potential something? Is a good thing. It's really hard to tell, though. ]
No, there weren't any other bodies. I think just Hien and Kara are the only ones who had died. I would've been told if there were more too.
[ There's another pause, however, because he's not done just yet, stroking his back with the one hand still around Michel. ]
If...you're hurting because of the fact you were made to act against your will, I wouldn't blame you. I know you never wanted to hurt anyone again. [ Michel phrased it in not those precise words, but Ganymede understood perfectly. ] But, that is what happened, isn't it? You also don't have to hold it in anymore, okay?
[ If Michel is still trying to hold on, in vain, to the pieces barely holding him together just to appear strong. Like he isn't about to fall apart. It feels like he's doing something like that. So if he wants to scream, yell, whisper, or rant about it all, Ganymede is here for it.
He won't judge him. Just listen, and then, try to think of something, so that it can't happen again. And if it does, even then, he can be there to stop Michel in time so that he doesn't experience the pain of hurting another person again. Ganymede is just that determined...he'll think of something.
Even if he's weak, and can't do anything, he will give it his all anyway. Because, for Michel, he is his everything. ]
no subject
But he absorbs the healing and the information both with his expression unchanging. Is "he" "hurting"? Is that what this is?
He remembers — for whatever that is worth, whatever that means now. This is the feeling of the mind retreating from what the body can't escape. A model that makes sense in the "real" world, if that exists. But here it's all code, only code. There's no reason for a bug like this; the state machine of the mind coming uncoupled from the state machine of the heart from the state machine of the body. All of them could simply be reset. So, why... would a programmer not bother to correct this. ]
I don't... "want" anything. I wondered, before. Who I am. How much of Gorre truly reflected my wishes. But the truth is that it never mattered, did it? My will. Or Gorre's. If the program executes, "I" act accordingly. The feelings are... legacy code. Whether they exist or not, whether "I" exist or not...
[ If the code dictates it, his body will act. As long as it is capable of doing so. He is a side effect of the program, and not the other way around.
His forehead comes to rest on Ganymede's shoulder, and it's a moment or two before he feels hot tears stinging at his eyes. For as long as he can remember, since that promise, he's always stopped those. Why? Wanting to be strong? He can't make himself strong or weak. He can't make himself anything. All he is is data at someone else's whims.
The first gasping cry catches him by surprise. He doesn't remember making a sound like that, even before... But he can't prove a single thing about those memories, either. So he just folds into Ganymede's shoulder, neither allowing nor preventing it as the inevitable cascade of the system takes its course. He sobs like a child, loud and unabashed and all but choking on his own tears as each wave rolls in before he can draw breath from the last. The way a child cries when they're well past all expectations that anyone will hear, either to scold or to comfort, and nothing at all holds them back. ]
cw: dissociation, captivity mentions
There's a sinking feeling again. He's saying all of this to cope with what's happened. He's — dissociating. That's the word for it and Ganymede knows this, because it's something he thinks he did when Apollo held him captive (he doesn't know he did this in a later memory, but the one returned to him has a lot of moments rolled into one.) But, it is still to his advantage — to be able to understand Michel like this, he thinks. He hopes.
Either way, Michel does thankfully allow himself to feel, even if it's something painful, and those tears that overflow aren't small. His sorrow is like a howling wind on a cold, misbegotten night. A dark river that overflows into a bottomless ocean, and with his small arms, Ganymede tries to receive, to catch it all, holding him tighter with both now that his other is free. He plants a kiss atop his head, gently rubs a hand continuously against his back. ]
Your feelings are more than code. You're more than that too. It's okay, to feel these things. To get angry when you're hurt, to cry when you're sad, and to laugh when you're happy.
...Even if that's hard to believe right now, more than ever.
[ His words sound like hollow assurances, when he has nothing to back them up. But he is already searching still for those answers, more concrete than suppositions, because Ganymede is stubborn — determined to the last. He won't shy away from comfort, but neither will he from trying to offer more than that. He pauses still, to allow for more space of those cries, allowing more silence. Ganymede's hand gentle against his back, but a constant presence, alongside his other, which cards softly through that hair. Then, he decides to continue speaking, voice gentle. ]
...Still, someone forcing us to do something against our will doesn't lower our worth, or who we are as people. It doesn't mean that we're reduced to just 'code'. It's an unforgiveable act, that exists in this world, and the one beyond. Even if the means here are different.
Whether it's words that make us feel bound, without any other option before us, directionless, without a mind of our own...
[ Ganymede remembers distinctly, in that room, when Apollo had him at such a diminished capacity he could only listen to him. Believe every word that comes out of his mouth, sympathize with him, until he was uncertain where Apollo began and he ended. ]
...or someone casting a spell on us to control or make us lose it. I can't promise someone won't try it against you or anyone else. But, we can fight against it. Let's come up with ways so that it doesn't happen again, because remember — when I said, when you feel like you're about to stumble, I'd be here for you?
This is exactly that. It'll be okay. I'm here — and we'll figure it out.
[ Another kiss against the top of his head. ]
drowning imagery, more dissociation, sads
His sobs trail off gradually, the steadying pressure of Ganymede's palm against his back settling him despite himself. Those gentle kisses. He'd been soothed rather like that when he was actually a child... Apparently, his body remembers it still. His voice is a little raw when he speaks, but despite everything, almost steady again. ]
I... tried, Ganymede. Nothing is enough. If I find a means of blocking Rage, it will be Charm. If I block Charm, Hysteria. I can't... cover all the possibilities. And whichever one I miss will be what finds me.
[ And not even at his own cost. Never that. In so many ways, he's glad for his burns, for the new damage to the arm Skeith had already wrecked. At least it was a tiny token in return for whatever he'd done. He lets out a shaky sigh, unsteady with the promise of unshed tears. But he doesn't feel like crying anymore, and forcing it could only feel worse. ]
Whatever I am outside this place... here, we're only code. What I'm feeling right now could be just as easily triggered with a command. I could wake up and find that I'm in love with someone I've never spoken to. I could wake up as that painting, a beautiful and demure young woman, and believe that's who I am and have always been.
[ He's aware... to someone without the full memories of both worlds, he must sound as though he's raving. The status effects, the mirrors and the dungeons, those things only give so much of a glimpse into what he's trying to describe. Right now... thinking that somewhere out in the "real" world is a human version of himself feels like holding onto the knowledge that dry land exists somewhere in the world as he sinks beneath the waves. He rubs his cheek against Ganymede's shoulder again and closes his eyes. ]
Someone gave me a confession, before. [ As Gorre. Michel's "I" is still precarious now, fluid in a way it seldom is. ] They said... that they envied what had happened to me. The pieces of my mind peeled away. Reshaped into a sickening monster, but with purpose. I... at the time, I only thought it was cruel. But now I can understand.
no subject
They are so close. They're so close to the end. To being there, back home (he doesn't care how wrong it might feel thinking that now, with Fragment in his head), and then getting married. To escaping. To destroying that...thing.
He tried so hard to get him back.
He refuses to lose him. He ignores the thoughts about his uselessness, his weakness, the returning pounding in his head. No, he's NOT losing Michel. He's lost his brother, Uta, his memories, even Kara, who he wasn't so close to, but it is still a loss he feels. Her kindness irrevocably imprinted in his mind, her actions...
As those sobs die down, he can only think that he is not losing Michel, and nuzzles his head against his hair. He doesn't care if his robes will be soaked with tears. ]
...Have you even tried to make a deluxe set? There might be something there, even still...
Also, I told you to rely on me. So, do it, rely on me. You promised. I have skills too, don't I? I could...put you to sleep too, if you're controlled.
[ Ganymede doesn't care if it sounds like Michel is raving. In all honesty, it doesn't. Even without his full memories, he knows enough, that he can't accept this place as his home, even if his mind believes it. Not like he hasn't been acting like that either; the thoughts in his head processed at a steady clip, his actions are a drive that had been intuitive, and the evidence all over the network, the forums with strange words that served as proof. But Ganymede never ignored them.
Despite this, despite his own energy, his resolve, though even as Ganymede speaks, his voice begins to crack. Still, his hands are steady, another soft kiss planted against the top of his head. ]
Not 'it could be' but 'it could have been'. The fact of the matter, it isn't. We met on the other side, which is proof that it isn't. And I wouldn't let you live a life like that. I'd come, pull you out, do whatever it takes to make you remember.
...We're so close, Michel. All of the things that have happened to us were so cruel, so awful. Even if I say these things, I know that I can't convince you otherwise. We can only keep continue pushing forward.
But, we have to. If we stop giving up, start believing that we're nothing, less than nothing, and have no purpose. Then, that's the end. Whatever you were made to be reshaped into, that wasn't anyone with a real 'purpose'. The 'one you were at that time' is nothing compared to the Michel Bollinger in front of me. The one who still has a purpose.
You're a gloomy man, one who hates crowds, a difficult man, who appears to be so cold, but is filled with a heart so gentle that it breaks every time you have to hurt someone who is undeserving of it. You're an 'engineer', you can be competitive and hate to lose, you're a person who tries to see the larger picture with the smaller pieces that make it up, you have a deep sadness within yourself, and struggle for so long. You experienced so much pain, but you're more than that. You can laugh, you can cry, you can care for others, unlike those programs, and let it linger beyond an 'effect' or 'set amount of time'. You know the difference between right or wrong, you're considerate, and your love is unconditional.
You're...so many things. What happened or has happened hasn't taken that away. Please, believe me in that.
[ Ganymede can say all these things. All he can give is himself, and pray that is enough. And he does pray, to all the Gods, to all the Goddesses above, that it is.
(As if that is enough. No god or goddess can hear him here.) ]
no subject
[ Of course he tried. He closes his eyes slowly and breathes in deeply, releases it in a slow sigh.
He's speaking to the simple facts of the situation. If something overwrites them, changes their memories or their emotions, dictates their actions... there isn’t a single thing they can do about it. Willpower, desires, self, none of those is enough. They can't willpower through the inevitable consequences of being no more than puppets. And Ganymede is speaking to the heart, the way he always does. That those feelings matter, even if they're powerless. Even if they can be overridden as simply as toggling a setting. Which of them is right?
He has no desire to win this argument. He doesn't want Ganymede to feel helpless in the way he does now. Very slowly, he stirs a little more, running his palm over Ganymede's hair when Ganymede's voice cracks. ]
...I know. I do still have a purpose. If... if I'm not certain of a single thing anymore, if every core principle of who I am has been shattered, if all I have left is... whatever fragments of the beliefs I tried to hold onto that remain caught beneath my nails, even so. I promised you I would stay with you. That we would keep moving forward.
[ He's promised each of them, and those promises hold him now. Even if by strict numbers it's the wrong decision. As a blade brandier, he can't do anything but hurt. He's dealt more hurt to the others here than he ever had to the Phases. And he can't do anything to stop it from happening again. If he can't stop himself from being wielded like a blade, the only option left is to break the blade himself...
But as long as these people hold him here, he still can't. He tries to find the words for it. "Your feelings reached me, even though they don't change our reality." He tries to shift enough to reach for Ganymede's right hand with his uninjured left, so he can lift it for a light kiss. ]
You're... so stubborn, Ganymede. Maybe you really can change reality with your willpower alone. [ But even Ganymede must be tired. All of them are. Fighting for so long, dragging Michel's weight with them... He leans into him a little more, heavy and tired, but trying to press whatever warmth he has against Ganymede. ] ...My mistake may have been trying to find a way to fight at all. I'm not really that sort of person, am I? Maybe... what I should have been doing all along is thinking how I could keep pulling you forward as well.
[ He can't count on even that, of course. If the next day Lily overwrites that intention then it's simply gone. But they're not speaking to logic or reality. He can do that, he thinks. Try, just a little, to reach back towards Ganymede's heart. ]
no subject
[ His voice is a little small here. He has been panicking, maybe, all along. He just really can't afford to lose anyone else he cares about. Ganymede knows he's so headstrong, though maybe that's what helps keeping him going. He should know better too, having been at that exact point Michel was at, when nothing ... he grasps a hold of the memory that might give him further context, but that too is far away from the memory of his four years of captivity that has been restored.
Like reaching for a dove's feather beyond his grasp. But, maybe that is just it.
...The difference is...he doesn't know. Maybe there is something different, but he can't grasp it either.
But, he's stubborn because he's not a hopeful person. He thinks...but even reaching for those forgotten memories compound upon the pain. Maybe he's really afraid. He doesn't know if they can escape here, not really. Still he wants badly that future he and Michel spoke of, together. Justy as his cousin in law, and Michel as Hani's. He wants it all and that wins out against any cynicism any day, and invites his desperate stubbornness tenfold, even when he feels the gentle palm over his hair. It feels like his aquamarine eyes are going to sting with tears (or they already are.)
So he's quiet for a moment when Michel reaffirms the promises too. Which is...it's something. Even in the solemn environment, when he kisses his right hand, maybe Michel can't see it like this, but Ganymede's cheeks burn, just a little. There is a reason why he asked him to kiss his hand before, besides an indication of apology, though, well. Time and place.
(It's a silly reason, that's why.) ]
Change reality with my willpower? ...I think that's the first time someone's said that to me.
[ No, wait...someone else said that he was strong too, though not to that extent. But he thinks he never liked that 'person' when he said it, that's why he never believed it. Not until the people he loved started saying it, which is why he likes hearing it now. Because they believe it, they're not mocking him.
And he can trust Michel to say it so earnestly. And if he's saying that now...surely it means something good to him too. Ganymede, for his own part doesn't feel tired; he had rested (inadvertently, due to pushing himself so hard), though he doesn't grasp he's mentally fatigued like everyone else. He holds Michel closer to him still, welcoming that warmth, his weight.
The power to change reality with his willpower also sounds really nice. He still likes that. ]
I think you fight in your own way. Not to do it maliciously, but to protect. There's...something to that too. Even with everything that's happened, that's part of why you wanted to wield a blade, right? In some way. I don't know.
Still, even if we're overwhelmed, we can keep pushing. I want to keep doing that. So, if you do that with me, we can both be pulled forward.
[ He lightly presses a kiss, again, against the other's head. ]
no subject
...Oh. It hurts again. Things... are coming back, bit by bit. ]
W-what do you have to be sorry for?
[ No, it's the opposite. The things Ganymede has just said are still sinking into his consciousness, slow and steady. He shakes his head, running his fingertips slowly over the back of Ganymede's hand and brushing the ring. ]
No, that's... You have the right to be angry at me. I-I'm... sorry. I am relying on you. [ So much. Ganymede's slender shoulders are more sturdy than they appear. ] But it... wasn't my intention to hurry off without you this time. I didn't think of your sleep spell, either...
[ It's embarrassing that it didn't occur to him to ask sooner. He's being more honest with his feelings, where he can. But he knows Ganymede isn't an expert in games... so he overlooked that instead. He gives Ganymede's hand a light squeeze, awkward, uncertain.
It doesn't change the fundamental truth of the instability that's eating him alive. Nothing will change that, as long as they're trapped here. But if he can't know anything with certainty, can he... try a little harder to accept the reality as it is? No, everything inside him recoils at that idea.
But — it is reacting again. That's... not nothing. He closes his eyes as he leans into Ganymede's kiss. ]
...I chose a sword because I expected to play alone. I wanted to meet others. But at the same time... I couldn't imagine it being possible. I picked what would allow me to not need anyone else. And then, when things turned out differently, I hoped... that I could be strong enough to fight for those who couldn't.
[ Nothing quite worked out as planned. Much of it not for the best. But... not all of it was terrible. ]
no subject
But, I didn't want to make it seem like I didn't understand that you were trying, either.
[ Ganymede says, straight to the point, unafraid to answer like always. Just because he has said so doesn't mean he isn't angry, though at the same time, it isn't like it's a heavy feeling. It isn't like he doesn't understand why Michel is acting the way that he is. But he does want to be honest with him; is he mad that he left without telling him? He actually hadn't thought of that either, dealing with the other aspects. So many other things, that maybe he hasn't gotten a chance to know how he feels about that part just yet.
Still...he hears him say that he is relying on him, feels the way the other male's touch is felt over his hand, the light squeeze to it as well. ]
...If you say you are, I believe you. But, I want us to be together in where we go, like we said that we would. Relying on me doesn't just mean talking in the aftermath, and holding you, though it's a large part of it. [ He almost smiles. ] In the end, I can't be angry at you for you feeling uncertain about things.
Though, I don't want you to be consumed by it either. I refuse to allow that. You know that. Since you promised.
[ Michel is his. He won't allow him to slip through his fingers. He already resolved that no matter what, he will be returning with him. Home.
That said, there is another pause, after he feels him lean into the kiss, and for a moment, his hands shift slightly, to slip up from where they had rested against his back, raising to cup his cheeks, fingers lightly threading through the hair at the movement too. ]
It hasn't worked out the way you might have hoped, but ... it doesn't mean you still can't fight, right?
I already told you that you're my everything. My love, my one and only.
You resolved to live up to your promises, even now. That means you've resolved to keep going forward, ahead with me.
You know that you're not alone. Won't you continue to be my sword too? When we face down our enemy, I'll need your protection to the end.
[ If he is truly relying on him, then Michel should trust he should be there to help him too. If he ever needs to be stopped. And maybe, they can still find another way, without him having to use the sleep spell.
Michel just needs to trust in him, to rely on him to help him. They can do this, together. ]
no subject
[ Isn't there? He's been turning to Ganymede for so much. But he doesn't want to rest the weight of his worries only on Ganymede. If he did, then how could Ganymede ever turn to him with things, too?
He can't talk about everything on his mind with each person he cares for. Some things have no outlet. Really... considering that only a few months ago he had only one person in the world to speak to at all, it's all a little disorienting still. The constant sharing of emotions is a bit exhausting — though not strictly in unpleasant ways. He blinks over at Ganymede as Ganymede cups his face, studying the warmth in those blue eyes. ]
...I love you. Now, and always. For the strength of your heart and your honesty and stubbornness, and the way you can still find joy in the darkest moments.
[ For the unflinching way Ganymede believes in him, to ask for his protection even now. Michel pauses, tactfully omitting the "but" from the continuation of this thought. ]
Has it... ever crossed your mind that I'm simply not a very good swordsman?
[ Very gently. Even if, yes, the little part of his heart that remembers devouring those stories of knights and heroes as a childhood resonates with every word Ganymede is saying. He wants to be that for Ganymede. He wishes that were him.
But if it isn't... he'll find his own way to keep protecting him, nonetheless. ]
no subject
We've shared a lot of our burdens with each other. But...
[ Not all of them, is what he means. He doesn't expect Michel to share every single little thing that's troubling him at all times, even if he wants him too. How is it possible? Yet all the same, it's not all in just words. Actions too.
It's hard, sometimes, to strike the balance, and knowing when to do exactly that, in their situation. At the same time, Ganymede wants to try to reach for that, to do what he can. Before all of this, he certainly never relied on anyone for anything...or at least, that's the feeling he gets, thinking back to his conversations with Hani.
Maybe in this, they're both still learning. They can find a way to do that too. Still, when Michel says those gentle affectionate words of love, they warm his heart, that still tingles with remaining anxiousness and fear. But, he can forget about that too, almost. Looking right back at those red eyes, he can only lean forward, press his lips against Michel's forehead, still covered by bangs, softly. ]
And I love you so much, Michel. I wouldn't know where to start, but all those things I said about you before, that make you up — you know I mean it.
[ At the question, he doesn't quite understand that, at all. ]
What do you mean? ...I've teamed up with you before. I've seen you swing your sword before, and when we danced, I liked that. We've...
[ Ganymede's words start to come out a little clumsy, somewhere between flustered, and there's something else, that he can't possibly convey. Maybe he's just emotionally overwhelmed, that's probably it. But, he gets a hold of himself, because as always, like Michel knows, Ganymede believes in him, even if his face is glowing a little. ]
Of course it's never crossed my mind! Besides, I don't care about any other swordsman. You're the best one to me. No one else can compare!
[ If, for some reason, something...or some other tried to take him away, and needed to be struck down, he knows that he could always count on Michel to put his all into striking whatever it is down if he was around.
Not that he's some kind of damsel or anything like that! It's just, something he thinks about sometimes, is all. Maybe...he is just being foolish, though. ]
no subject
That's exactly what I mean, about reality and your willpower...
[ Perhaps Ganymede should look into this second Blade Brandier, Albedo? A man who can actually roll 20s? Such a pity they probably haven't talked.
But Michel lets out a quiet sigh, more contentment this time than anything. It's foolish, absolutely. It has no connection to the reality that he's observed, empirically, in the last three battles for himself.
Which path would be worse for him? If he takes up a sword and wounds an innocent person yet again? If he refuses to carry one, and finds himself powerless to help the people right in front of him? He might be powerless even with one. He doesn't know. ]
...If I can find a way to safely carry a weapon again, then I will. I'm not undermining the suggestions you've made. I just... can't risk another failure. If you're stunned and can't use your dance, for instance. I'll give the armor another try and see what I can come up with.
no subject
He blinks a bit at the comment about his willpower. He feels like he missed something, but that's fine, he still likes the compliment. ]
...I do have a real strong willpower, so it is really sweet you said that.
[ Ganymede doesn't give a rat's ass about Albedo! He's just some stupid manlet. He only needs one Blade Brandier and that's Michel, thanks. Maybe Michel will somehow get blessed by God and suddenly be rolling 20s himself or magically hit all the things.
Or at least more...whatever the case, Ganymede has an incredible amount of unwavering faith in Michel's abilities. He will literally kick a person in the dick, mouth, or wherever else that is very painful if they shit all over Michel within earshot. Consider it the ultimate act of pacifism. ]
Stunned? ...Alright. I believe in whatever you'd be able to come up with too. You should be able to find your own solutions to this problem as well, because...it should just be like that, that's all. [ crying ] When you're done with the armor, though, you should show off to me first.
[ So he can stare and start walking into walls in their McMansion every day since that. ]
no subject
No. He has plenty of time to brood on this later. For now... focus. ]
R-right. It should be like that.
[ Or, maybe the problem is that he's too aware of reality...? But he blinks at Ganymede and tilts his head in curiosity. ]
...I will, then. I didn't know you were so interested... I suppose swords are more your domain than mine.
[ Ah, except Ganymede doesn't remember. But Michel will still show him his video game background coming through in his armor design. This time, he's determined!
And his determination will be doubled when he sees Ganymede's thirst, thanks.]no subject
The other should recognize that he's bringing out tea. ]
Here, another healing item for the wounds you've sustained.
[ Ganymede blinks when he tells him 'swords are more than your domain than mine'. Unfortunately even if Ganymede spoke about sword dancing it was far and few in between; he has enough information and context for himself being a dancer to know this. His memory of 'four years of captivity' that returned do not involve his thoughts about sword dancing either, so nope. He does not recall. ]
What do you mean? How is it more mine than yours?
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[ Well, the tea is more palatable, at least. And Michel is no longer unresponsive. He reaches over to accept it with his good hand, the warmth of Ganymede's kiss still lingering on his lips.
Everything still hurts. But he knows from old habit that the hurt is preferable to the numbness. He can endure this, like he has before. ]
Ah... Your traditional dances include sword dancing. I think those were your family's specialty. I... did see you perform some, once.
[ It still feels strange to talk about these memories that only he holds now. But if nothing else, Ganymede trusts him so deeply that he never seems inclined to doubt Michel's words. A slightly harrowing possibility when Michel no longer trusts his own mind — but also deeply touching. ]
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He's glad he is at least able to accept this much, even in the wake of everything. ]
...Really?
[ But no, he has a spell when wielding a sword feels familiar. Where sometimes he's danced in the kitchen in their McMansion, holding a knife for some inane reason. ]
You saw me perform? What did you think, when you saw the performance?
[ Ganymede asks, tilting his head. He wonders what he looked like then. There is even an ache in his heart, to still return to that. He thinks maybe, a part of him misses that. The declaration he made when he lost his memories still sitting deep inside of him and not forgotten even when he forgot all else. But still made such a certain comment nonetheless. ]
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He's so grateful to have those memories back. At least he can do this, now. ]
I... don't like being in crowded places. But while you were dancing, I didn't see a single other person in that crowd. I remember hearing the applause afterwards. I think I even remember being jostled. But when you dance, you outshine the sun. ...You were incredible.
[ And it suited Ganymede. He always looks so vibrant, so at ease in his own body wherever he is. But never moreso than that moment. ]
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That isn't exactly wrong either (he has no idea that Michel is thinking of silly knife-dancing escapades in the kitchen. He'd be kind of embarrassed if he knew.)
Though, the comment brings something like warmth to Ganymede's cheeks all the same. ]
...I wish I could remember it. But, hearing you say that, I can believe it. Maybe even imagine just a little.
I don't have any memories of my performances anymore. I hope I can recall them someday. Until now, one of the most treasured ones will have to rest with you. I can't complain, knowing how you still can recall it fondly at all. And because it's you.
[ There's another person out there who has the memory of a performance, from an earlier time, though that individual isn't Michel, so. ]
If I could have made it so enjoyable for you, it made it worth it. Even if you were out with so many people. I can't wait...to show you more of my performances too, in the future.
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